


Four Sequence (With No Actual Conclusion)

by TennysonKeats



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, Squint and you see Baekhyun, soft and sassy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 07:45:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17039654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TennysonKeats/pseuds/TennysonKeats
Summary: Country boys? City boys? They're all the same.





	Four Sequence (With No Actual Conclusion)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a past Gazette fic of mine that I've reworked with Exo.

**I.**  
  
Jongin decided to write his own fairy tale when he met Yixing. He was overwhelmed with renewed determination to make ‘once upon a times’ from pristine eyes and ‘happy endings’ from honest lips. It was a clichéd meeting of course; awkward exchange between customer and barista in a small coffee shop hidden on the outskirts of the city, with pale lighting from antique chandeliers casting a curious ambiance. He handed him the drink and Yixing snatched it with a nervous grip, mumbling his gratitude without sparing a glance.  
  
Yixing situated himself in a corner, book propped up as a barrier from any unnecessary interactions and downing his coffee like water.  
  
“You’ve no romance in life.” Jongin took the empty mug and replaced it with a new one, smirking with an amused glint. “Yixing.”

“What?”  
  
He slyly pointed to Yixing’s tag; Some off-white pin with his name printed in mundane font, and picked off imaginary lint for good measure.  _Shouldn’t waste something so beautiful._  
  
“I’m not interested.” Yixing crossed his arms like a shield, unsure of his reaction. He silently cursed himself for leaving his name tag on when he rushed from his own job two doors down.   
  
“You city boys are all the same,” Jongin scoffed, unaffected by Yixing’s resistance. He saw it, the split second of uncertainty and inquisitiveness. “So fucking defensive.” He sat down uninvited. “Loosen up.”  
  
“You’re a douche.”  
  
“Likewise.”  
  
Yixing huffed and Jongin smiled inwardly, drumming his fingers on his chin and enjoying the attitude being displayed. It’s a cheap thrill, but Jongin found Yixing’s temper as a welcoming challenge. The boy with the innocent face had to be tamed after all.  
  
The classic English literature was forgotten on the table that evening as Yixing stormed out, slightly unsettled and (unknowingly) completely smitten.  


**II.**  
  
The restaurant lights dimmed; bright shades of yellow replaced by soft white signaling that dinner hours had begun. Yixing charged in through the back door, dropping his backpack and tying his apron on with unrivaled haste while apologizing to everyone within proximity. He scanned the kitchen, wordlessly thanking some higher power that they weren’t short-staffed tonight. Perhaps he’d leave on time to actually finish his thesis due in three days.  
  
“Xing! Two waters on table five!”  
  
“Roger that!” He grabbed the iced pitcher and filled the glasses close to the brim. Lifting the round tray high above his head, he made his way towards the front of the restaurant with confident steps of a senior waiter.   
  
“I apologize for the wait,” he softly said while placing the glasses on the coasters. The elderly ladies looked up and he smiled at them charmingly, charisma switched on like a high watt light bulb. “Are you ready to order or would you like a few minutes?”  
  
They placed their orders and chatted animatedly whenever Yixing returned to refill their waters, intermittently asking if the food was to their liking or if they needed anything else.  
  
“Looks like someone is romancing the wrong century,” his coworker whistled in jest.  
  
Yixing pursed his lips in mock contemplation before revealing his wide-eyed dimple.  
  
“Well…looks like  _someone_  has extra money after paying rent this month.”  
  
He returned home with a hefty tip that night.  


**III.**  
  
Jongin locked the front doors of the café, sighing in relief the day was finally over. He had agreed to work a double shift from 7am until closing at 10pm after countless harassment from a fellow barista who needed the day off to finish his paper. Countless phone calls from the day before turned into his coworker pleading on his knees in front of his door at midnight.  
  
“Damn you’re ugly when you cry.”  
  
“Is that a yes?” The short coworker pouted even more, complete with drool on the side.  
  
“No. And you stole that book from the cabinet.”  
  
“I didn’t. I’m borrowing it. It’s the same one that’s used for my class.”  
  
Jongin feigned annoyance. He glared at him for good measure before showing offhand interest.  
  
“What class?”  
  
“British Lit 302.”  
  
“One of your classmates forgot that book in the coffee shop. Make sure he gets it back.”  
  
“Who?” He stood up and stepped closer.  
  
“Yixing. And back up that fun train.” Jongin held him back at arm’s length.  
  
“Soooooo…is that a yes?”  
  
Jongin slammed his apartment door shut.  
  
“Jongin. Ple—"  
  
“You owe me you little dipshit!” was heard muffled through the door.   


**IV.**  
  
“One date.”  
  
Yixing halted mid-stride on his way home through the park; the voice grudgingly too familiar.  
  
“Just one.” Jongin tried again, getting closer. “If you—“  
  
The wind picked up.  
  
And so did Yixing’s steps.  
  
Jongin jogged to catch up, his long legs gracefully doing their job. He reached out and gently took hold of Yixing’s hand. It was much daintier than he imagined. Soft palm led to long and slender fingers and he pictured himself holding it at every chance.  
  
“If you don’t want to, just say ‘no.’”   
  
Yixing doesn’t answer.   


****

  
He took Yixing to the river at 3am, motorcycle engine roaring down the winding road as the frosty air bit at their necks. Yixing thought he saw his life flashing before his eyes at every sharp turn, holding on to Jongin tighter than he should and unconsciously delighting in the physical contact.  
  
“It’s cold.” Yixing pulled the blanket snug around himself as he plopped down on the bench.  
  
“No shit, Sherlock.” Jongin caught the corner of the fleece and wrapped it around himself after a game of tug-o-war.   
  
“You only brought one?”  
  
“All you do is complain.” And he wished Yixing would scoot a bit closer. “I’ll share if you ask nicely.”  
  
Yixing snorted and hugged his knees against his chest, calm water filling his vision and he fondly remembered coming here frequently as a child.   
  
“I’m not always an asshole,” Jongin whispered and glanced at him, peripheral vision at its best, taking in the sharp nose and pouty lips.  
  
“I’m cold, Jongin.”  
  
And he waited, holding the blanket open in invitation until Yixing settled against him, fitting like the right piece of puzzle with his icy face buried in Jongin's neck.  
  
“Can we do something else next time?” Yixing grumbled sleepily, yawning open mouth brushed against Jongin's collarbone. His tone was timid and accepting, something the other had been waiting for.  
  
“How about dinner—somewhere warm,” Jongin readily answered and ruffled his hair affectionately.  
  
“You country boys are all the same.”   _I want romance too._ And Yixing surprised him with a kiss, lips pliant and willing for his taking.


End file.
